Eden

The odd jumble of shops that made up Main street seemed to lean into each other for support in the heavy summer heat.  Inside the grocery store, a tired sounding man announced over the wireless that it was the sixteenth straight day of record breaking temperatures, and to please remember to wear adequate sun protection and not run the sprinklers between the hours of eleven and six.
A girl in a sundress perched on the curb, long pale legs stretched before her and a book draped across her lap.  She sat hunched, squinting down at the bleached white pages that reflected the glaring light.  Her auburn curls were messily tumbling around her shoulders and she didn't look up as the purr of an engine approached.  The door slammed in the parking space to her left and she flipped the page.
"Excuse me, miss?"
"Hmmm?"  Her eyes didn't leave the page.  He waited for a moment and then seemed to decide that this was as much of an acknowledgement as he was likely to receive. 
"Well, you don't know where a fellow could get a bite to eat around her, do you?  I'm just passing through, a visitor..."  She snorted, still not looking up.
"You're all just visitors.  But yes, I suppose I do.  Wait a moment, I'm almost done with this chapter and the Count is about to escape the Château d'If..."  He stood, idly fingering a quarter and watching her as she sucked a deep breath in through her teeth.
"Poor old Abbé Faria.  You wanted to eat?  This way."  With surprising speed she was on her feet and tucking the book into her bag, she had taken three steps before she realized the stranger was still watching from the curb.  "You hungry or not?  The Colonel's has cold soda and sandwiches.  Come on."

The shop was refreshingly dark and cool, the girl strode confidentially to the boy behind the counter and pointed at the pastries.
"Un croissant s'il vous plaît!"  The boy looked bored but seemed to understand because he put the buttery treat into a brown sack and handed it to her over the register.  The sandwhiches were in a big case at the back, the man found a salami on rye and followed her to the counter.  It was plain but fresh, and they had an excellent view of the main street.
"This is such a quaint little town."  She shot him a venomous look, before delicately unwrapping her buttery paistrie. 
"I despise the word quaint, it's entirely condescending.  I suppose my town is just as important and yours or any others, if not more.  We just have the misfortune of aesthetically pleasing buildings." 
"Well, of course, no disrespect meant..." They fell back into silence.  Finally he crumpled the sandwich wrapper and stood.
"I don't mean to bother you further, but you don't happen to know of a boarding establishment in town? It seems my plans have unexpectedly changed and I have no reservation."  She laughed for the first time, and looked him directly in the eye.
"You're lucky for this heat, normally you can't get a room from here until Augusta in July...but this heat has been keeping all the visitors away.  No one likes a whale watch if they're sweating too hard to see the puffins.  I'll show you to Mrs. Peabody's."  She waited for him to gather his hat and then swung the door open with the tinkle of a bell.  The boy watched them leave the shop, his eyes following the yellow dress until it was down the street. 

The old Victorian house was set by the water, the girl stopped at the end of the drive and pointed.  "I've got to be getting on home now, but you're close enough.  Priscella will put you up for a fair price.  Goodbye."  And with that, she was off down the lane, whistling a melody and swinging her bag until she was out of sight.  
Priscella Peabody was a kind woman, a widower who told him the story of her late husband's untimely death at sea while she checked him in. 
"It was a horrible Nor'easter, the worst we've seen in nigh on fifty years, completely unexpected!  Two fishing boats didn't come back that night, and two others who had gone out to look at the swells never came back.  Poor Mr. Peabody, he left me with this old family house and it was all I could do to fix it up.  Now, you'll be in the room on the second floor-it's usually let but you're in luck, I just had a cancellation last minute this afternoon.  Oh, Mr. Peabody would be proud if he saw the place today!  We do very well for ourselves, of course some summers are better then others, but hey you can only reap what you plant my mother used to say.  Now breakfast is at eleven, and the bath is at the end of the hall.  Do enjoy your evening and let me know if there is anything at all I can do for you."  

The room was pleasant enough, decorated in the old style with chintz chairs and a four posted bed.  It was a tad bit feminine for the man, but then he supposed he had never had much of a taste for interior decorations.  He set out his shaving things and then changed into his pajamas, pondering the events of the day.  The girl in the yellow dress, his friend's unexpected cancellation; yes overall he supposed it had all been quite exhausting.  He pulled the covers close, despite the heat, and let himself drift off into oblivion. 

Morning seemed to come almost as quickly as he had closed his eyes.  The sun stretched it's long fingers across the bed as he had neglected to close the blinds the night before, though he didn't suppose that it would matter because once again the debilitating heat had descended.  
By the time he made it downstairs for breakfast all the other guests had departed, when he told Mrs. Peabody that he supposed he would just take another stroll around town and take in the scenery she insisted on giving him her guidebook and a good bit of her own advice as to the local attractions.  Armed with these, he set off on foot.

"Thunder Hole, the majestic beauty of the rocky coast meets the power of the ocean as waves sweep into an underground chasm and boom over the boulders.  The unwary visitor is likely to be soaked by ten to fifteen foot rushes."  The hole seemed not to be in the mood to thunder, instead it let out a soft "plunk" as each wave crested and then swept back out to see.  Craning over the guardrail, the man watched with disappointment as a bit of flotsam drifted in, and out, and then back in the underwater cave again.  A far cry from the grand and frightening spectacle promised.  Turning away, he noticed a familiar bunch of auburn curls on the other side of the observing platform.  She was in a red dress today, and her book was nowhere in sight. For a moment he stood watching her; she seemed deep in contemplation with little furrows in her brow.  As he approached he could hear her murmuring to herself, 
Eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine..."
"Counting time?"  She didn't seem at all startled to see him standing so close to her, she glanced back at the water.
"No, the waves.  I can never seem to make a hundred.  Ninety, or was that ninety-one?  Damn." 
"Awe, shucks I am sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."
"No matter, I'll just come back tomorrow."
"Well, what are you doing now?  If you have a minute, perhaps you could show me..." he consulted Mrs. Peabody's dog-eared guide book, "Sand Beach?  Or Bubble Rock?"  She shrugged, still watching the water rush in and out.
"Sand beach is just a bunch of old ground up sea-shells, and bubble rock is just a silly stone that happens to be on the side of the mountain.  Probably always will be, if the McAllister boys couldn't push it over with a levy.  But sure, I have nothing much to do anyway."  

The morning was spent in a very pleasant fashion, she was indeed a much better guide then the thirty-some-odd year old advice his book offered.  At her insistence they skipped bubble rock and went into town for cold Italian ice instead.  They walked up and down the streets eating it and looking into the little shops and restaurants.  
"Used to be big hotels all through here, until the great fire.  My mother said it was an act of God that started it, burning all the wealth away and leaving something here for us locals.  I don't know if I believe in God, but it sure was a great convenience for folks that had been trying to buy land for years and couldn't compete."  

He didn't quite know what to say to this, but she didn't seem to want a response anyway; she was leading the way to a park bench on the green.  Behind them the town clock chimed six pm, and the whistle at the fire-station across town let out a wheeze.  Looking at her, he realized for the first time that her eyes were the exact color of the ocean, blue and grey with little flecks of gold.  For the first time, he realized that he had never even asked her name.  She noticed him staring, and just as he was about to speak she stood.
"I had best be off home.  This really was quite the pleasant day.  You're not such a bore, after all I suppose."  He gave a half laugh, wondering and rather hoping that this was her attempt at humor.  "You had better be getting off home too now, there's a storm blowing in."  She gestured at the trees, and sure enough he realized that their rustling had increased by ten fold in the last quarter hour.
"Can I give you a lift somewhere?  I don't want you to get caught out in bad weather..."  She just shook her head and started off on a path across the green opposite from the direction they had come.  She was nearly fifty paces when she turned and raised her voice against the rising wind;
"You have anything...after...?"  He shook his head, gesturing that he couldn't understand and she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "You have anything to do after dinner?"  He shook his head again and she smiled and called once more "Meet me at Thunder Hole around nine, it will be a spectacular show tonight."  

Priscella Peabody fussed over him all through dinner, continuously pushing servings on to him until he declared that he was too stuffed to eat another mouthful.  "Well now, you had best be parking your car in our garage tonight, that storm is fixing to set in and I don't think she'll be leaving before the morning.  And I'll put some extra blankets in your room, warm as it is-perhaps this will finally break the heat.  A good thunderstorm might be just what this town needs, yes indeed."
"I was thinking I might take the car out once more and get a look at Thunder Hole, you know before the storm really sets in."  Priscella nearly dropped the plate she had just removed from his place and turned on the spot.
"Of all the foolhardy ideas, of course you shouldn't go down, don't you know the swells get to be fifteen feet above the cliff?  You visitors and your hair-brained ideas.  No, you had best just go upstairs and go to bed and wait for it all to blow over."  
Fifteen minutes later however when it became clear that she wasn't going to convince him out of his plan she insisted on dressing him in an old yellow slicker and pair of boots that had been her late husbands. 
"Well, he certainly doesn't need them anymore and I just can't be a good christian and send you out in a storm with nothing but that light sweater.  Come on now, are you sure you don't want the hat as well?  No?  Well all right then, I'll leave a light in the hall on for you.  Of all the ridiculous ideas..." She continued her monologue about ignorant visitors even as he let the front door close behind him.

The wind had picked up even more now, there were leaves dancing around him as he leaned into the brewing gale.  The road looked different at night, and he nearly missed the pull off that had seemed so obvious in daylight.  He sat hunched in his car for a moment, wondering if he shouldn't perhaps just listen to the innkeeper's advice and turn tail for home, when he spotted her on the rocks below.  Taking a deep breath he opened the door and plunged into the night. The rain had started falling now, big slow drops at first but soon coming down faster and harder, stinging the uncovered skin on his face and neck.  He was grateful to the late Mr. Peabody for his slicker that preserved the illusion that parts of him were dry.  
Reaching the guard rail, he let out a great halloo, but the wind seemed to whip his voice out of his throat before it could reach his lips let alone the solitary figure on the rocks below.  He slowly began inching his way down the steps and over the slick rock to the observing platform.  The docile plunking of earlier had been replaced by the loud WHOOSH and KAPASH of water being forced mercilessly into the tiny underground opening; when he was halfway down he could see the white tail of a monster as it rushed into the chasm.  A moment of silence seemed more shocking than any of the pandemonium, and then the explosion of water engulfed him.  Ten, twelve, fifteen feet in the air and rising still further, thrown up by some powerful underground demon.  He shivered and steadied himself on the rail, inching further and further to the lone girl who was standing stock still.  
She didn't seem to see him, even when he was right beside her.  Her eyes were unfocused and her lips were moving, once again.
"Ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-seven, ninety-seven..."  Gently he put a hand on her arm and she came out of her reverie, calmly. 
"I never can get past ninety-seven."  
"This is amazing, fantastic!"  She simply nodded and pointed at the rocks bellow.  
"This is where I come to feel alive."  She seemed vulnerable, for the first time just then.  Something like sadness was in her eyes and instinctively he put an arm around her.  She didn't shrug it away, and they stood there for a moment, in the heart of the storm watching the world crash around them.  Finally she turned and looked straight into his eyes.
"There's something even better than this, you know."  He smiled down at her, thinking how sweet it felt to have her small frame in his arms.
"You're the guide, show me."  She pointed, on the other side of the guard rail there was a rock that jutted out over the watery chasm.  It was barely six feet away, but in the madness that six feet was an incalculable distance. 
"You're not serious...."  Before he could finish the sentence she had darted out from beneath his arm and slipped under the rail.  In two steps and a short leap she was on top of the rock, laughing and smiling for him to join her.   Taking a deep breath and clenching sweaty palms, he edged his way under the metal rail.  Gripping it firmly behind him with both hands he searched carefully for his next footing on the wet rock.  Step by agonizing step he moved across the gap, until finally he stretched his arms forward and finally grasped the wet boulder and pulled himself up.  
She was lying at the pinnacle, waiting, and when he finally hunched himself down beside her she grabbed fistfuls of his curly brown hair and pulled him into a long embrace.  When they broke apart she was looking into his eyes again.
"You're much braver than you look."  He smiled despite himself and then laughed in surprise when another monstrous wave sent a cascade of foam up past their heads.  They lay there, together for some minutes until she seemed to come alive again.
"You know, I really am very sorry.  Very sorry indeed.  You're such a nice man, this was a horrible thing to do."  
"Don't be sorry-I'm perfectly fine and I'm enjoying the hell out of this.  You really do know how to show a fellow a good time."
"You see, when I first met you, you were just another stranger, but now I feel I know you which is why I'm so sorry..."  Impulsively he pulled her into another kiss.  He felt her body sink into his, and then harden again.  Breaking away he only had time for a glimpse at the tear on her cheek before her arm was under him, shoving hard- he was falling and then, a cold wet plunge into eternity.  

Back at the inn Mrs. Peabody was packing a man's things into an old ceder chest.  Glancing towards the door she clutched her chest in surprise before turning back to the bed.
"My goodness, Anna, must you always sneak up on me like that?  It's not good for an old woman's nerves!" The girl in the yellow dress watched the woman bustle about, languidly picking at the hem of her skirt.
"It's done, you know."
"Well I figured as much, since you're here.  I don't know why you needed my help with this, it seems you had everything just fine and under control on your own thank you very much."  The girl shrugged, sighing. 
"This is how it's meant to be.  Here.  I'll make the bed for you, I'm restless.  Get some sleep."  The woman cast a dark look toward her, but did as the girl bid and shut the trunk with a snap.
"Well, good night then.  But don't you go mixing with my regular guests now, I'm trying to run an establishment of good repute here."  When the woman had left, the girl wandered over to a chest of drawers in the corner of the room.  Lovingly she pulled out a red frock, and then a yellow twin to the one she was wearing.  Finally she swept her fingers along the back of the drawer, and gently brought out an old yellowed clipping from the back.  

The Bar Harbor Times, 30th July, 1934. 
Three are confirmed dead and four more are still missing after the storm that tore through the town last tuesday evening.  Mr. Peabody along with the crew of his boat and Mr. Jones and his vessel never returned to the dock after getting caught in the nor'easter.  Anna Summers and her fiance Samuel Grant were last seen on the rocks near Thunder Hole where they had gone sightseeing.  Summers, 24, and Grant, 26 were planning to be married this coming August at the Ledgelawn inn.  Details of funeral arrangements are forthcoming. 

The girl brushed her fingers across her smiling likeness in black and white.  "They're never as smart as you were, Sam.  Goodnight."  Shutting the drawer with a snap, she caught up a copy of The Count of Mote Cristo and with a flick of a yellow hem was gone.